


A Moon With(out) the Sun

by alateni



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: :'), Faeries - Freeform, Fantasy AU, Humans, M/M, Modern Magic, i really like these kinds of concepts ehe, lots of random symbolism that doesn't really need to be there, why did this end up so philosophical i kind of hate it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14024856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alateni/pseuds/alateni
Summary: He’s not bright. Not dazzling or obnoxiously loud – not like the other models scattered around the room. They’re decorated from the tips of their scalp all the way down to the soles of their feet. Horns are wrapped with lace, feathery wings clipped with clay accessories – even tails are adorned with small jewels and bells. Minghao though, Minghao stands in a sheer, white cloth.Alternatively: Minghao is a model, Mingyu is sometimes his designer, and together they traverse a magical, modern world.





	A Moon With(out) the Sun

Minghao is the moon. He’s always been compared to one at least. In a way, he supposes the comparison is right. He’s not bright. Not dazzling or obnoxiously loud – not like the other models scattered around the room. They’re decorated from the tips of their scalp all the way down to the soles of their feet. Horns are wrapped with lace, feathery wings clipped with clay accessories – even tails are adorned with small jewels and bells. Minghao though, Minghao stands in a sheer, white cloth. It covers him in the enough so that he doesn’t feel exposed, but not enough to make him feel comfortable. The air is cool, it has to be, with the insane number of models bustling around. However, Minghao remains in his corner. His hands tucked neatly in front of him as his silver eyes examine his surroundings, waiting, watching.

As of right now, Minghao feels more like a shadow than the moon. With the loud outfits and daring cuts around him, Minghao looks washed out. An odd stroke of nothingness in the middle of a chaotic clamour. He doesn’t mind it though. It’s almost a breath of relief. And honestly, he knew this was coming. _He_ always understood what kind of outfit Minghao needed. Because clothes were not as simple as you’d think, things are never as simple as you’d think.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Minghao straightens up. He eyes the group of beings wearingly before moving away. He passes the makeup stations – his own face already completed. The instructions for the makeup artist were clear – his face was to be washed and primed, but that’s it. Maybe a bit of base, some shimmery eyeshadow, a swipe of mascara, a touch of lip colour – but no more. The artist had frowned, even more so after Minghao changed into his outfit, but he had ignored her. She knew nothing. Almost none of the models in the room knew much. After all, in this world, mainstream beauty was a cacophony of colours.

There’s no room for small details. No space for carefully constructed designs that build upon one other and weave together to create a masterpiece. In this world, with demons and faeries, with elves and dwarfs, with humans and werebeasts as models, the simpler designs disappeared. Why stick to a casual suit when you could enhance a werewolf’s physique? Why confine yourself to earrings and necklaces when ears, horns, wings, and extra limbs held endless accessory possibilities? Indeed, in this world, simple is something unheard of.

It’s quite possible that simplicity is the reason Minghao is receiving looks. A demon to his right snorts when he walks past. A woodland elf backs away from him, as if being near him will cause herself to appear more normal. Minghao doesn’t mind. He doesn’t care really. It’s not like _they_ are the creators of their own beauty. They’re products of someone else’s mind. Made only to don a disguise for a brief moment. Minghao can’t judge too much. He’s the same.

Minghao heads out of the waiting area. He isn’t scheduled for another half an hour, so he has some time. Regardless, the stage hands would probably be angry. They’re always told to be ready at least an hour before in case something goes wrong and the order of appearances has to change, but Minghao leaves all the same. They’d figure something out. They always did. Besides, at the end of the day, he’s one star in the multitude of astral bodies. No one will miss him if he steps out for a bit.

Traversing the empty hallways, Minghao takes a deep breath in. He’s nervous. That’s the real reason he came out here. He had maintained a cold look, a confident façade, in front of the other models, but it was just a front. Even after doing this for so many years, Minghao grows nervous before every show. It’s an odd thing, nervousness. A shaking, yet stilling feeling. You feel cold and hot at the same time, and nothing can stop Minghao’s nerves from frying. He breathes in, breathes out. Counts to ten. Paces back and forth. Nothing helps. No matter what he does, Minghao can never beat his nervousness. In a way, he’s glad. It humbles him. Makes him remember that for all he’s done, he is still prey to anxiety. To simple emotions. Nothing would ever change that.

Minghao finds a mirror. It only shows half of his body, but he stops in front of it. No longer pacing. No longer hyperventilating. Just still. Waiting. Watching. He stares at his reflection, lifting one hand up slowly to make sure it’s actually a mirror and not just an illusion. You could never be sure with these kinds of things. Magic was, well, magical. It made the impossible possible. Sometimes, people forgot that.

Minghao smiles at himself, a sharp, fake thing. He doesn’t usually smile. Faeries are strangers to that emotion. It’s the one thing humans do better than any other race. To smile, to make happiness bubble up from their hearts. To laugh and share how joyous they are with the world. Share how great life can be. Minghao has learned that no other race possesses the ability to make him feel as warm as humans do. Or well, one human at least.

Instead of thinking about his smile, Minghao directs his attention towards himself instead. Even for a faerie, he’s incredibly subpar. Less attractive than even a human – some of his colleagues would say. Minghao pays them no mind. He knows he’s nothing spectacular. His skin is pale, but not in a porcelain manner. He’s washed out, like a shirt that’s been in the laundry machine one too many times. His hair is a silvery white. Not bleached enough to be strikingly inhuman, but wispy enough to make him feel like he’s a ghost. Even then, it’s not transparent enough. It exists, but there’s nothing else to add. The rest of him follows the same trend.

He’s tall, but skinny. Not incredibly muscular or desirable in terms of body shape. His frame is small, almost delicate, and Minghao supposes that’s the only reason he passed the modelling audition. Well, that and the fact that he’s still a faerie – though it might not look that way on the outside. Personally, Minghao thinks the most striking part of him is his eyes. They’re pale, so, so pale. A silver gleam to them is all that distinguishes his iris from his sclera. From afar, most would assume he’s blind. Even then, Minghao knows his eyes aren’t a very attractive feature. It scares people. Unnerves them. Eyes are the window to the soul, but what do you do when they look like they don’t exist? You stay away. Far, far away.

Minghao is abnormal through and through, and not only because he’s a faerie. Even amongst the Fae, he’s looked down upon. Above everything else, faeries have a tendency for the dramatics. Most of the other faerie models in the show, for example, outshine Minghao by a longshot. While they had deep red skin, emerald set eyes, and strong, eagle-like wings, Minghao looks, well, he’s practically a human beside them. But alas, Minghao didn’t mind. Beauty was more than that. More than theatrics and illusions.

Stepping back from the mirror, Minghao turns. His clothes turn with him, moving lightly as he walks back quickly. They’re a special fabric, Minghao isn’t exactly sure how they work, but it almost feels like he’s wearing spiderwebs. Even underneath the regular hallway lights, they reflect, making little shimmers and flashes of colour along the wall. Minghao isn’t wearing anything special. A pair of skinny jeans and an oversized, sheer sweater – once again, highlighting his normalcy. At this rate, even Minghao was getting bored of the redundancy in his outfit, but he holds on. He knew what the plan was, after all.

Slipping back into the crowded room, Minghao easily finds his spot in line. There are only a couple of minutes left before he’s scheduled to go, and he gets an earful from a stage hand for coming late – just as he had predicted. He ignores the imp, focusing instead on calming his heart beat. The instructions delivered to him this morning repeat in his head. He can do this. He will do this. He won’t mess up. Can’t mess up. Not after all the effort that had gone into this.

With a silent cue, the model in front of Minghao walks forwards. It’s a flugel, an angel-like creature. The wings on her back are free of accessories, but ribbons weave in and out of them. They wrap around her hands, her legs, her stomach, her breasts – they’re arranged so delicately and so purposefully, even Minghao is impressed. The flugel has accents of gold scattered throughout her body as well. Gold paint marks her face, bracelets, chockers, rings, earrings – even a golden crown shines against the dark fabric. It’s a mash up of ribbon and metal, yet the flugel’s elegance and dainty walk bring it all together. She looks, very fittingly, like a starry night.

After the flugel disappears from view, the stagehand motions for Minghao to get ready. The faerie takes a deep breath. He counts backwards from 10, slowly, calmly. Right before the stage hand tells him to walk forwards, he dispels the illusion hiding his wings and unfurls them. The exhibition hall is silent – like it always is – but it’s in awe rather than judgement.

Minghao’s wings are the only part of him that seem magical. They’re shaped some what like a dragonfly’s, except broader at the base. They rise, all four parts, and sharpen into a clean tip – but that isn’t the exciting part. They’re clear, translucent, at least, at first, they are. Then the lighting changes, the room falls into darkness, and the stage lights turn on – as instructed. That’s when Minghao shines.

Minghao is the moon, but the moon needs the sun. The moon emits no light by itself. It merely reflects the sunlight coming from the sun. Minghao is the moon. Any source of light, no matter how small, is the sun. Light from every which way, from the spotlight, from the overhead lights, even from the phones scattered through the hall, they all reach Minghao’s wings, and reflect back. A dazzling array of colour, of shimmers and twinkles, arises. It changes with every one of Minghao’s steps. His faded, washed away appearance accentuating the lights even more. They seem to shine on him, making him appear like a rainbow.

The clothes he wears – especially the sweater – are made out of a similar material to his wings. At least, as close as they could possibly get. The sweater reflects its own light, shining into his wings, and bouncing off one another. It’s safe to say that Minghao steals the show. He walks, twirls, strides – and it looks as if the moon and all the stars in the sky had combined into one, beautiful, burst of light.

In this way, Minghao is a catalyst for his own beauty. Through a simple prism, light shines forth in every colour imaginable. Through one’s own idea, blooms a beauty unrivalled. For once, Minghao is himself – and he is thankful.

 

He is approached many, many times at the gala afterwards. It’s customary, to attend the dinner party after every show. Often, Minghao is only there for the food. He shows up, thanks the designers for coming, and then eats. Sometimes he talks to his fellow models, but not often. Mostly, Minghao consumes. Even for such a lithe being, he is not allowed to eat before shows. He is to maintain a certain figure after all. That, however, doesn’t apply for between shows. It’s unhealthy, but Minghao must find a way to live, so this is how he copes.

His usual routine is broken. He barely has time to grab a glass of wine before he is swamped. Models cooing over his outfit. Designers asking for details. Sponsors offering contracts. It’s too much. Minghao’s head hurt. But still, he remains. He has to. He shakes hands. He smiles stiffly. He nods, laughs, talks. And talks. And talks, and talks, and talks. Even when the dance floor opens – a signal for most of the crowd to disperse and talk elsewhere – he remains rooted. There is an overwhelming sea of people, and Minghao can’t stand it anymore.

He wants to leave. He needs to leave. Attention doesn’t bode well with him. He is the moon. Made to reflect light, not to shine by himself. His wings droop limply on his back. Usually, he puts them away whenever he can. He doesn’t like the eyes on him when he has them out. Even under minimal light, they reflect and shine. Minghao hides them with a spell – a simple thing all Fae learn the minute they can cast magic. An illusion to keep them tucked away, only letting them out when he’s most comfortable. Now though, they are the star of the show. Everyone wants to see, to touch, to examine the rare specimen. Minghao, unfortunately, has the bad luck of being attached to them.

As Minghao shakes his head politely from yet another offer to dance, he spies another man in the distance. Hope. A glimmer of relief. Minghao can barely stop himself from screaming. Instead, he pleads. He sends a look, a brief one – one that you could barely decipher if you didn’t know it was coming. The man grins in response, has the audacity to raise his hand to cover his laughing mouth. Minghao would be angrier if the sight didn’t fill his heart with joy.

Soon enough, the man makes his way over. He nods at the cluster of people around Minghao, before stepping forwards. He gestures, a wide, uncoordinated thing – so very different from the elegance Minghao exudes, before uttering the very words that will make their way onto every news outlet in the world the next morning.

“Evening, my name is Mingyu Kim. I’m the one who designed Mr. Xu’s outfit. We’ll be taking our leave now, nice to meet you all but I’m afraid I must bid you a good night.”

 

Later that night, Minghao can’t breathe. He’s on the floor, gasping for air, while the hotel lights flicker above him. He can barely make a sound, much less ask for help, and is spasming – rolling around even. He inhales, at least, he tries to, only to produce a strangled gasp. It goes on, for how long Minghao can’t tell, before he finally stops and lets air enter his lungs. It’s been a while since the last time he laughed.

“ _Stop_ ,” Mingyu whines. He perches on the bed, suit jacket hanging limply beside him. It’ll crease, it always does. For a designer, Mingyu didn’t take very good care of his clothes. Usually, Minghao would have immediately picked it up and folded it. Maybe put it on a hanger. Now, Minghao is too busy wiping tears from his eyes. Tears of joy. He has to keep reminding himself that Mingyu brings happiness. And with no ulterior motive. Not like the Fae back at home.

“You’re so,” Minghao starts, before stopping. Giggles climb up and out of his throat. Mingyu pouts. Minghao laughs some more. “You sounded so _official_. I’m surprised you didn’t trip over your words or something – oh wait, you almost tripped leaving the hall. Would’ve actually, if I hadn’t caught you as smoothly as I did.”

“Okay, _okay_ , I get it,” Mingyu huffs. “I’m not as graceful as you are – sue me. Humans can never be as graceful as you guys anyways.”

“Yeah but out of all the humans in the world, you’re probably the clumsiest,” Minghao replies fondly. Mingyu opens his mouth to contest, before closing it. Nothing he could say would change Minghao’s mind. After all, Minghao can’t lie – no Fae could. Rather, they can’t say things they don’t believe are true. Faeries are exceptional at illusionary magic – masters of trickery – only to be bound by the truth.

Instead of speaking up, Mingyu flops back. The bed bounces, once, twice, before calming – like a pebble thrown in a pond. Minghao watches as Mingyu’s legs swing back and forth. He’s too tall to do it properly, but that doesn’t stop him. Even if he has to wiggle upwards so that his feet aren’t touching the ground, Mingyu finds any way to live life the way he wants to. It constantly amazes Minghao. Amazes and inspires him.

It’s the reason, actually, behind Minghao’s outfit tonight. Minghao can’t remember when they talked about it, perhaps it was during the last fashion show they did together, or maybe it happened just last month during their regular video calls that would stretch on for longer than necessary. Whenever it was, during that time, Mingyu had been frustrated with the world. Time and time again, he was told his designs weren’t flashy enough. They were too plain, too simple – every time his portfolio would be returned with the same words, “no one would want to wear something like _that_ , especially in high end fashion”. Mingyu wanted to prove them wrong.

 _Simple is also beauty_ , he had said that night, with the moon reflecting in his eyes. _They hide behind their flashy get ups because they’ve forgotten how much skill goes into perfecting a single cut_. He said it with so much conviction, so much passion, so much of that emotion that only humans laid claim to, that Minghao believed it. Believes it to be truth. Ever since, he has been unable to compliment another outfit. He couldn’t tell someone, anyone, that they’re pretty – not when he has seen what true beauty was like, underneath the moonlight. The Fae couldn’t lie after all.

And so, Minghao helped. He did what he never wanted to do – all because a mere human broke down his walls and showed him what life in its purest and rawest form is like.

Minghao hates his wings. He had ever since they unfurled from his back after his birth. Ever since he understood what they were. They aren’t as strong as the others. Not as pretty, not as extravagant. He was made fun of – _what a skinny little boy, so pale, like paper, translucent_. He was ignored. The bullies had laughed at him, called him names – “since you look like a piece of glass, we might as well pretend you don’t exist!” Even when his wings grew stronger and developed past being flimsy membranous things, it was too late.

Minghao’s hatred for his wings comes from a deep-rooted fear of being different. He didn’t want to be on anyone’s radar, didn’t want to be singled out. In the end, it is because he is so normal that he is separated from the crowd.

For Mingyu though, Minghao swallowed his fear. He let them show – bared his insecurities and fears to the world. He displayed the thing he hated most and did what he was most afraid of. All for one man.

Mingyu’s popularity would definitely shoot up after tonight. He would get busier – Minghao would see him less. That is, in Minghao’s opinion, the worst consequence. He’s a little selfish, all faeries are. Much like how his ancestors lured little children away to keep them forever in their forests, Minghao wants to hide Mingyu away. But alas, Mingyu didn’t want to hide. He wants to make a stand, to make a mark. Humans live short, short lives – and Minghao thinks that’s the reason why they’re all so obsessed with leaving a mark in history. Everyone wants to be remembered, but with a lifespan of barely a hundred years, how could you do that? Minghao didn’t know, and though he used to be skeptical of human potential, that had changed. Now he wanted to help. He would help. Even if it killed him.

Minghao sits up with a jolt, a sudden touch on his wings silencing his thoughts. He’s on the floor, but the area in front of him is no longer filled up with Mingyu’s image. Instead, Minghao feels Mingyu behind him, his body warmth radiating a heat that warms Minghao up from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. The pressure moves, and Minghao realizes Mingyu is feeling his wings. He always did – whenever Minghao is comfortable enough to leave them out. In actuality, Minghao has only every shown them to his family and Mingyu. That’s how special Mingyu is to him, not that Minghao will ever tell him.

“These are so pretty,” Mingyu fawns, tracing patterns across the tips. Minghao shivers. He isn’t sure if it’s because his wings were cooped up for most of the day, but they were always quite sensitive. He thinks he remembers, idly, that his old Fae teacher taught him the reason why. Something about how their wings had more nerve connections than the rest of their body body. Minghao can’t remember the exact reasoning, but before he could think harder, Mingyu presses his lips against the tip of Minghao’s wing.

“A-ah,” Minghao whines, shivering. He pulls away, only to have Mingyu bring him closer to his chest. Minghao pouts. He looks up, eyebrows furrowing when he notices the amused look on Mingyu’s face. The human seems proud of himself. “Why did you do that?”

“You’re thinking too much,” Mingyu taps Minghao’s head once, twice. Minghao frowns. Humans can’t read minds. Mingyu couldn’t have known that. “You made a face,” Mingyu pauses, twisting his own face into a weird expression – Minghao assumes he’s imitating him. He’s wrong, of course. Minghao’s face could never look like that. “And that means you’re either constipated,” Mingyu giggles. Minghao never understood why humans liked fart jokes so much, no matter how old they were. “Or you’re thinking too much. I’m betting it’s the latter based on what happened tonight.”

“And so, you decided the best thing to do was kiss my wings?” Minghao asks, tilting his head to the side.

“I mean, what did you want me to do? Kiss your ass?” Mingyu snickers. Minghao stares blankly. It must be another human joke. Those often flew past his head. “I mean, I wouldn’t be _opposed_ to it,” Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows. Minghao still doesn’t understand. Mingyu laughs.

“I don’t–”

“–get it, I know, I know,” Mingyu finishes. He pats Minghao on the head, but not in a condescending manner. He does it warmly, fondly. Like Minghao’s mother used to do when he was very, very little. Before Minghao grew up to be a ‘disappointment’ – as she so often called him. Minghao hasn’t seen his family in a long, long time. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just a human reference. When tough people want to act, well, tough, they tell people to ‘kiss my ass’ and stuff. Like provoking a fight.”

“That’s weird,” Minghao replies. “Why does kissing someone’s ass mean you’re tough?”

“It’s,” Mingyu starts, before stopping. He thinks for a moment, and Minghao takes the time to admire how Mingyu’s hair is growing a longer. The human usually likes his hair short, so it wouldn’t get in his eyes while drawing, but Minghao thinks he likes it like this. Shuffling closer, Minghao wonders how it would feel to run his hands through it. Probably soft. Like petting a dog.

“You know what? I don’t really get it either. No one says it anymore anyways,” Mingyu says before Minghao can reach up. He considers doing it anyways, but decides he much rather enjoys Mingyu’s voice, so he lets the human continue talking. “Regardless, what were we talking about again? I can’t remember,” Mingyu frowns, lips pulling down in confusion. Minghao giggles lightly, causing Mingyu to look down at him, fondness in his eyes.

At this point, Minghao has turned around, and is basically sitting in Mingyu’s lap. The taller human doesn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest, and with how his hands wrap around Minghao’s lithe waist, it doesn’t look like they’ll be moving anytime soon. Mingyu grins when Minghao continues laughing, a soft, melodious sound filling the air. Mingyu always told Minghao that his laughter is like a lute – tilting and rhythmic. Minghao didn’t understand, they didn’t have human instruments in the Fae world. Instead, they play songs with nature and spells – a weird cacophony of sounds that could damage human eardrums if exposed to it for too long. However, because it’s Mingyu, Minghao finds that he quite likes it. And if the lute becomes Minghao’s new favourite instrument, well, Mingyu has nothing to do with it.

“You said I was thinking too much,” Minghao replies. “But it’s okay, I’m done thinking now.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Mmm,” Minghao hums. “Besides, the things I was thinking about mostly concern you. I’m sure you’ll eventually figure them out. It’s none of my concern then, you see?”

“Pushing your problems onto me, how unfair,” Mingyu pouts. “I’m only human Hao, can’t you take away my problems with your fancy magic?”

“That’s not how it works love,” Minghao shakes his head. He presses a kiss on Mingyu’s nose before standing up. “Come,” Minghao extends a hand, and Mingyu takes it, confused, but trusting. Pulling the human up, Minghao turns. They had gone back to Mingyu’s hotel room, a little way away from the banquet hall. It isn’t as lavish or spacious as Minghao’s – Mingyu was in charge of his own housing seeing how he isn’t directly part of the show – but Minghao likes it better. Though, he only thinks so because it’s where Mingyu is. Minghao prefers anywhere as long as it’s with the human.

Guiding Mingyu to the window, Minghao pushes the curtains back. Unlocking the window, Minghao lets the night air in, allowing the wind to blow through the stuffy room. Both Minghao and Mingyu had taken off their suit jackets, and while Minghao took his pants off too (and opted to stand in his dress shirt and boxers), Mingyu is still wearing his. Minghao thinks he looks good like this, semi-formal and standing there for no one but Minghao. He keeps his thoughts silent however, knowing that Mingyu wasn’t exactly fond of Minghao’s selfish Fae side.

“The moon is really pretty tonight,” Mingyu comments. Minghao looks up, admiring the various stars scattered across the sky. They aren’t as clear as they are back at home, Minghao understands that the human lights counteract the stars somehow, but he can still pick out the major constellations. He wonders if the humans know that there is so much more to see in space than just the little fraction of stars their city lights allow them to see. He keeps quiet about it though – lest he hurt Mingyu’s brain like he did when he tried to explain how many more colours faeries could see compared to humans.

“It really is,” Minghao agrees. His eyes move from the stars to the moon itself. It shines, casting a soft illumination on the city below. Minghao thinks the contrast between the harsh human lights and the natural glow of the moon is an interesting one. Kind of like Minghao and Mingyu.

Humans are made to be harsh, functional, and clumsy. They have no affinity for magic, and get by with their fancy machinery and technology. Faeries on the other hand, are wise, powerful, and elegant. They, above all the other races, have the highest affinity for magic. To many, they are deemed the most powerful. Minghao thinks otherwise – every race has its own perks and downfalls – but alas, he’s now learned to look past the stereotypes. Though they exist for a reason, one is so much more than their background and culture. Minghao’s learned that the hard way.

“Hey,” Mingyu whispers, as if anything louder would ruin the moment. Minghao tears his eyes away from the view in front of him, before moving them to look at something even more beautiful. The moonlight hits Mingyu’s face perfectly, casting dark but sharp shadows across the human’s face. The night wind blows lightly, fluttering the strands of Mingyu’s hair and causing the male to shiver slightly. Minghao mumbles a spell, and a soft glow emits from Mingyu’s body. Warmth, embodied in light.

“Yeah?” Minghao asks.

“You’re,” Mingyu starts, before stopping. He lets out a breathy laugh. “You’re really something huh?” Minghao stares, confused, before realizing, only now, that his wings were still out. The wind blows through them, causing a chill to run through Minghao’s body. He knows, now, that if he looks down, he would see a shimmering of colour cast about the room. is was the moon after all. Funny how he was too focused on Mingyu to realize.

“I could say the same to you,” Minghao grins. He gestures, and Mingyu looks down. The warmth spell Minghao cast surrounds him, wrapping him in a soft glow. It seems to come from within, a pulsing, radiating light that, combined with Mingyu’s tanned skin, seemingly embodied the sun itself. “A moon is nothing without his sun, you know that right?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu laughs, still breathy, but with excitement now rather than awe. Minghao steps closer. He pauses, taking a moment to admire how the light both of them emit mixed together. The soft and warm glow from Mingyu combines with the sharp and mystical shimmering from Minghao’s wings. Human and faerie. Sun and moon. Mingyu and Minghao. The symbolism is not lost on Minghao, but the love on Mingyu’s face wipes all other thoughts from his head.

“We’re going to be alright, aren’t we?” Mingyu asks. He worries, lip between his teeth. Humans are so easily affected by fear after all.

Minghao presses his hands against Mingyu’s chest. “Of course, we will,” he promises.

“How sure?”

“As sure as the sun rises in the morning,” is Minghao’s answer. Mingyu opens his mouth to retort, but is silenced with a kiss.

 The night stretches on. The moon shines, the stars twinkle. Underneath it all, a human and a faerie share a bed and whisper sweet nothings – for their ears only. Soon enough, the moon disappears and the sun rises. Even as the sun shines and a new day is brought around, the moon stays, hidden by the sun’s rays, but there nonetheless. Always waiting, reflecting. A moon without the sun is merely a rock floating in space. But a sun without the moon is a lonely existence.

A moon with the sun and a sun with the moon however, well that’s just how things are supposed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a revamped (highly, oh my goodness it's been changed so much) version of a fantasy AU I wrote for Seventeen like three years ago? It was on a different site and I had a whole plan in my mind that never really came to fruition (I wrote maybe half of the introductory chapters and gave up).
> 
> Like I said, I'm planning on revamping it and maybe expanding on it more here. Revamps will include: moving the time frame from the Feudal ages to modern times and changing some of the races and tweaking certain abilities. If you've read my older version of this AU, have fun spotting the similarities and differences (that is, if you even remember what I wrote on the other site... I can't believe people used to like my writing oh my goodness it was so bad).
> 
> Minghao's wings (and character design - can I say that? I didn't draw it tho...) are one of my greatest creations. Interestingly enough, I found this [picture](https://twitter.com/glowkit/status/969705547871215616) 2 years after I imagined what his wings would look like and this is pretty much it. Except in wings, not a dress.
> 
> Reminder that you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/alatenii) if you'd like!
> 
>   
> Hope you're smiling!  
> 
> 
>   
> ~ alateni  
> 


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